I can’t stand sight of swine/They can’t touch a nigga like a porcupine/Dance up in that pussy I electric slide/Then she put her hands up like I just asked for a high five
The strength of a Timbaland beat knows no bounds, a legendary producer with limitless creativity. The freshly paved driveway has Ski Mask the Slump God doing back flips, traversing through wormholes and bending through time and space with ease. No matter what planet he’s landing on he’s making sure to establish himself as a top-billing headliner, a galactic ronin with a thirst for blood. Offset is his co-pilot, and he’s just as trigger happy here as when he’s cutting it up with Migos. The gun-slinging is rapid and indiscriminate, which is standard for two lyricists whose sole objective is to accumulation wealth and power.